


First Sight

by aliceslantern



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, M/M, NSFW, babies ever after, ienzo is a prince, ienzo is trans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-09
Updated: 2020-06-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:27:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24626221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aliceslantern/pseuds/aliceslantern
Summary: Ienzo does not want to get married, but accepts that, as a person of his station, he has to. Cultural differences and the unfortunate reality that an heir is needed make things more complicated... but perhaps things with Demyx might not be so uncomfortable after all.Prince AU, arranged marriage AU, Zemyx day (6/9) special
Relationships: Ansem the Wise | DiZ & Ienzo, Demyx/Ienzo (Kingdom Hearts), Demyx/Zexion (Kingdom Hearts)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 24





	1. Chapter 1

Ienzo did not want to get married.

He did not  _ want _ it, but he accepted that, being someone of his station, it was to be expected. That, and procreation of an heir. At least he did not have the very unpleasant duty of  _ seeking  _ his new spouse; that was up to his father, and the matchmaker. There was thought to extend this proposal to the prince of Destiny Islands, one of Radiant Garden's fairweather allies; given their naval strength, and their placement in regards to the coast, it would be a brilliant political move. He was told he should be grateful that the prince of these islands was not straight, and was open to marrying a person of his gender.

Ienzo was relieved; he knew his marriage would never be for love, but that it was of his desired sexuality was some cold comfort. Still, it  _ was  _ peculiar, seeing himself in the wedding suit that morning.

"I'm told he's a musician," Even said. "Perhaps that is something you can talk about." Even was his father’s lead researcher; but given Ienzo’s intense obsession with science over politics, the man had essentially become his second father.

"...As long as he is not a tremendous bore--or worse, obnoxious."

Even straightened his tie. "It's not as if you must spend much time together. Be  _ nice _ ."

"...You're one to talk."

"Be glad, Ienzo. In your father's day you would've had to marry a woman."

"...I shall try."

The actual wedding was straight out of history books; ceremony surrounded by hundreds of "important" folks in the kingdom, along with a party of those from his new spouse's nation. His father, Ansem, escorted him down the aisle in the old gothic chapel, which had been decorated beautifully--and generically--with Radiant Garden's lilies. Ienzo was positive he was dissociating at that point.

He saw his new husband at last.

The man was attractive; Ienzo had to give him that much. Tan, and blonde, with lovely blue-green eyes. But that  _ hair? _ Who let him go about with such a style? He tried not to hide his disappointment, as surely it showed some immaturity.

"You have to be Ienzo," the man said. He wore an odd, eclectic sort of morning suit of his own. He had a slight accent, but his use of their language seemed to be fluent. "Hello."

"...Good day." Ienzo reached for his hands, as beckoned by the priest.

It was a boring wedding, insofar as these things went, completely textbook; promises of fidelity, of loyalty and commitment. Their hands were bound and they drank from the same cup of bitter wine. The only oddity in the ceremony was the presentation of rings, which was part of this man's culture; it seemed rudimentary to Ienzo, as though they were one another's property. But he accepted the cool silver band on his left hand the way he'd accepted any uncomfortable demand of his own royal regime. 

And they were married.

After which was a completely unenlightening reception, in which they both sat at a table in the ballroom and ambassadors and distant family alike congratulated them on the match, on what it would mean. At least there was champagne, though Ienzo knew from experience not to let himself get too carried away. Enough to take the edge off, then. 

His new husband--in his dissociated haze, Ienzo realized he did not even know his name--offered him his hands. “A dance, please?”

He had a point--it would look good if it seemed they were getting along. Ienzo, in his many years of etiquette study, of course knew all the simple steps. Prior to his coming out, he’d been subjected to a great many of such dances with men, with heavy feet and sweat and bad breath. “Yes.”

His husband led him gently down to the ballroom floor; there was a smattering of delicate applause. Ienzo met his father’s eyes and saw him nod and smile once, the sentiment obvious.  _ Be nice. _ Despite his attempts at being polite, Ienzo’s silver tongue was legendary. The man rested his hand on Ienzo’s waist, the fingers strong through gloves. He swept him gently into the waltz, and Ienzo noticed with relief he was rather  _ good _ . No sore feet for him. “You’ll have to forgive me,” Ienzo said.

The man laughed a little. “So soon into our marriage?”

“I’m afraid I was so… nervous, earlier, that I did not adequately catch your name.”

His smile dropped. “It’s Demyx,” he said. 

“...Thank you. It was bothering me, not knowing the name of my spouse.”

“They told you nothing?”

“...Not much, I’m afraid. This was all rather sudden.”

“Hm.” He nodded once. “I know what you mean.”

“Nonetheless I hope… that we at the very least can find friendship.” Maybe it was the champagne, but Ienzo found himself fixating on the feel of that strong hand on his waist. Was it his cologne, or his detergent? Ienzo was tempted to lean forward to get a better sniff.

“I am hoping the same thing.”

“Though I must thank your family for agreeing. It… wasn’t easy, to find a suitable match.”

He nodded sagely. “Because of the gay?”

Ienzo flushed. “...Quite.”

“I am not understanding. Your country… is helmed by science, yes? Why do they not understand gay?”

Ienzo chuckled a little despite himself. “My father rhapsodizes about that at length.”

“My people believe love is love is love, no point fighting. Yes?”

“Perhaps that influence could be… useful.”

Demyx nodded. “What do you like?” he asked.

And it was definitely the champagne, but Ienzo blushed again, harder. “...Excuse me?” Surely this was something they should discuss later?

“Hobbies. Um. Et cetra.”

“...Oh.” He had to restrain himself from apologizing again. “My heart has always been with science, with research,” he said. “Computer science and biotechnology, particularly, but I’ve studied quite a few fields over the years. That, and… well, it’s quite silly. But I love to read.”

“That does not sound silly to me.”

The song changed to a different step. “I was always told fiction is a waste of time.”

“Art is not garbage,” Demyx said, with a little fire. “Not for art… there would be no song here, no food to eat, no… fancy clothes.”

“I agree. I was told… you’re a musician?”

He blushed. “Yes. I finished my degree in music theory.”

Ienzo found himself vaguely jealous Demyx was allowed to pursue his passions. “What do you think of this band, then?”

Demyx wrinkled his nose. “The cellist has been half a beat behind the whole night.”

Ienzo chuckled. “I’m told she only got her spot through nepotism. If you… like, you might get involved in such affairs. The, uh. National art program, I think.”

“Is that not also nepotism?”

“Well, surely you don’t need to sit around and look pretty all day. That is, unless you want to?”

Demyx considered this. “First I’m needing to get used to this place. I’m still… how it’s called? Jet-lagged?”

“Would you like to go back to your rooms, if you’re tired?”  _ Our rooms, _ he thought, with panic. 

“Is okay.”

There were a few more dances, after that, before it was late enough for the congregation to leave politely. Ienzo was still a tad tipsy, a sort of fear coming over him now. He knew what was expected of him tonight. But he’d never felt the need to engage in such activity before. Now he was wishing he had, just so he knew what to truly expect. Oh, of course he knew how it  _ worked _ . He’d read about sex at length. But the actual act of it, with what was essentially a stranger?

He hoped, for both their sakes, Demyx had little stamina. 

They made their way back to his quarters slowly, both of them silent. It was also Demyx’s first night in Ienzo’s room. The bed, at least, was large enough for them to sleep without touching. 

Demyx took it in. When he took his gloves off, Ienzo noted his hands were shaking. “I am not, uh, needing to do things straight away,” he said, with a nod. “If you are not comfortable.”

But more time would only make this more awkward. Ienzo sighed and sat at the foot of the bed. “I’d like not to waste time, if it’s all the same.” He unbuttoned his jacket. “I know many people will be… expecting something, nine months from tonight.” 

“Oh… yes, okay.”

“You were… told, about me, then?”

“Yes, I am told we can have a baby. They, uh. Tested me.” 

The room seemed so quiet. Some maid had left a soft lantern on, turned down the bed. Left out a rather discreet bottle of lube. “That must’ve been invasive. I’m sorry.” Ienzo took off his slacks and underwear. His own hands were shaking. His shirt was a little long, and for that, he was glad. “Is it okay if I keep this on?”

“Whatever is making you comfortable.”

None of this was comfortable. Demyx dropped his eyes and took off his own clothes; Ienzo noticed briefly that he was toned, strong, and held himself like a dancer. Ienzo settled back more against the sheets, opened his legs a little. Demyx eased on top of him. 

“Okay?”

“...Yes. Okay.” He braced himself for pain; another reason he wanted to get it over with now. Demyx reached over him, bringing that chest so  _ close _ to Ienzo’s face, for the lube, and put some on his fingers.

He felt Demyx fumbling between his legs, the slickness of the lube. But instead of just going for the paydirt, as it were, he instead found Ienzo’s clit and began to stroke it softly. The touch was so unexpected he nearly jerked.

“What are you--?”

“Sorry, I’m thinking--” He exhaled. “I cannot just putting it in? It will hurt. Relax.”

He tried. Truthfully his touch was rather…  _ expert _ , and he felt himself fighting to keep his expression neutral. He clutched at the sheet and hoped he didn’t make  _ noise _ . Undignified. 

“Feeling okay? You look pained.”

“No, it’s, um, good.” A squeak of a moan left him before he could stop it. 

“Have you… been with anyone?”

The smooth,  _ beautiful _ strokes forced him into something like honesty. He squirmed a little. “It’s not… customary,” he admitted. 

“Frou-frou birth control and they still make you wait until marriage?”

“Well… partially it was me, I suppose.” He could feel the tension in him starting to hitch in earnest, and instead of dreading what would come next, he  _ wanted _ it. Demyx kissed his throat once and slid a finger into him. Ienzo bucked against his hand without meaning to. “I’m sorry,” he stuttered.

“For what?” Another finger, and he gasped out loud. Ienzo saw his expression flicker and for a moment realized Demyx was fighting his reactions too. On impulse, he fumbled down between their bodies to try and find his dick, hearing a soft moan against his shoulder. Ienzo felt it harden against his hand. “That is… helpful.”

He laughed a little, despite himself. This really was  _ so _ awkward. He opened his legs a little wider, his heartbeat echoing in his clit. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. Demyx used more lube on his cock, staring at Ienzo contemplatively. 

“If you could just--”

He shifted his hips forward a little more. Ienzo could  _ smell _ him, a strangely gingery scent. It didn’t feel odd, or uncalled for, to rest his hands on Demyx’s shoulders. He felt the tip of it against him and bit his lip, hard. 

“Okay?”

“Yes.”

It slipped into him slowly. It was so bizarre, Ienzo decided. “It is quite painless.” He couldn’t see his face, pressed like this.

“Good.” He waited a moment longer before moving gently, almost hesitantly. His hips ground a little against Ienzo’s, brushing along his clit, the strange texture of skin, and again he was fighting his own reactions. Somehow feeling pleasure was more embarrassing than being in pain. Part of him was so focused on that gentle movement, while the other, more analytical part was fascinated in how this worked in reality, on what felt instinctual and what didn’t. He found himself moving with him, bringing it in a bit harder. They were both sweating, breathing hard, and Demyx moaned a little.

He kept fighting the inevitable orgasm, his last attempt at keeping control while so vulnerable. But Demyx kept grinding against him and honestly he felt so  _ good _ inside of Ienzo. Ienzo tried to make himself focus on the few discomforts--the awkward rub of his own shirt, the sweaty hair in his eye, the fact that they had not, actually, kissed--but it was growing more and more difficult, the noises he made less controlled. He pulled his new husband closer. “Harder,” he said instead. Maybe he had to get Demyx off before he caved? Would that help?

Demyx just moaned and complied. If anything, this just worsened the situation substantially. Why on earth could he not be like any of the milk-fed nobility Ienzo had encountered before, who had no doubt never seen another person’s genitals, much less touched them? Who came from seeing an exposed bit of shoulder? Demyx mumbled something in his native language, something that was most definitely not in the simple glossary Ienzo had perused before the wedding. He felt him pull out more with these thrusts, and it was impossible to think.

“I… need…” He heard himself gasp. What? To remain in control? To just finally  _ come _ already? What did he think would happen? Even if Demyx finished before him he’d no doubt have to rub himself off in the bathroom anyway. He was too far gone. He felt one of Demyx’s fingers catch between them, kneading his clit, and on top of everything it was just too much.

Oh.

Odd to feel it happen with something inside of him. He couldn’t do anything but let it happen, hot and cold and dizzy? Ienzo felt strangely limp, none of his personal fumblings intense like this. Jelly-like. Relieved. Demyx thrusted into him once or twice more before Ienzo felt it happen, the whole point of this act. He seemed to be struggling to keep himself from falling on top of him, his eyes shut tight.

_ You are so beautiful, _ Ienzo thought. Demyx eased out of him, making him shudder. “Alright?” he asked.

“I’m fine, yes.” He swallowed. How strange, the concept of virginity. “I admit, I didn’t think I would…” 

“You fought it.”

So he could tell. “Could you blame me? To fall apart in front of…”

“A stranger?” He sighed. “Because we have to be married doesn’t mean it has to be bad.”

“...Quite.” Ienzo swallowed. Gingerly, he sat up.

“You are not trusting me yet. I want you to.” He leaned over and kissed Ienzo on the forehead. He got up. Then, something like horror-- “You are bleeding? I was gentle--why didn’t you say something--”

Ienzo looked down. “I promise I was not in pain. This… happens.” He sighed. 

“I’ll get you a towel--”

“It’s fine. I should shower anyway.” He stood and felt a trickle down his thigh--he could not tell if it was blood or the… seed.  _ Humans are such odd creatures, _ he thought.  _ Shame I am one. _ “Make yourself comfortable.”

When he returned Demyx was deeply asleep, his hair mussed, breathing almost soundlessly. There was a scar below his rib--where had that come from? A faint brown fuzz was already cropping up on his face. Ienzo resisted the urge to touch it. He curled into his side of the bed and shut the light. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ienzo deals with the reality of being married, and what is expected of them.

Strange, to be married.

He did not actually spend too much time with Demyx, constantly pulled away by this or that silly little meeting. Councils, committees, dignitaries and ambassadors. Town halls for the common folk to express their frustrations. Each day simply felt… repetitive.

To his chagrin, he did not get pregnant that first night. He’d hoped for it to happen, a one-and-done deal, not something he’d have to worry about. A pregnancy, a baby, a suitable period of recovery, then another pregnancy, and if he had his way complete medical sterility. Were he a “normal boy” he would have none of this at all. It was simply expected as a royal. 

Frustrating, to be such a slave to his own fertility; he took vitamins and herbs, followed medical advice to a T. Demyx, to be fair, always complied with the routine attempts to conceive. But as the months passed, they both became more and more absent from the act itself, their minds wandering. Ienzo thought of that epitet “lie back and think of your kingdom.” It did not seem like Demyx was getting much more pleasure out of this either. 

The pressure Ienzo felt was immense, especially considering his father was aging. He’d hoped to at least have the childrearing through with before the kingdom was passed to him; he could not imagine the stress of fully ruling on top of everything else. 

Six months into this endeavor, when he woke  _ again _ to  _ another _ godforsaken period, he thought he might snap. He left Demyx behind to breakfast alone and headed straight for Even.

True, Even was not the castle physician. But he had a medical degree and by god Ienzo could not imagine getting the words out to anyone else. He bustled into the man’s workspace. “Have you a moment?”

Even just set down the equipment he was holding and sighed heavily. “No, but apparently that does not matter.” He took off his goggles and saw Ienzo’s pinched expression. “What is the matter?”

“There has to be something wrong with me.”

“Then why not go to our so  _ duly _ appointed physician. I’m told she’s not so busy these days.”

He felt his face burn. He hesitated. 

It was this hesitation that made Even sigh and cross over to him. “What is this about?”

“I can’t get  _ pregnant _ , Even.”

He drummed his fingers on the table. “Well, have you been trying?”

“...Much more than I’d like.”

“Taking prenatal vitamins? Tracking your ovulation?”

“All that and then some.”

He frowned. “I know they… made sure he  _ can _ ,” he said. 

Ienzo scowled. “I don’t even  _ want _ any of this unpleasantness.”

“Typically… I know the benchmark is about a year of trying before you’d be presumed infertile.”

He knew as much, but still, “A  _ year _ ?”

“Truly it mustn’t be  _ that _ unpleasant. If it is… I’m sure I could arrange for one of the castle guards to have  _ a word. _ ”

Ienzo scowled. “No, but I’d rather not waste either of our time if that’s the case.” 

Even reached out to give his hand a squeeze. “It may comfort you to speak with your father,” he said. “You recall he didn’t do things the  _ typical _ way.”

Ienzo bit his lip. Ansem had never had any desire to take a wife or settle down, despite the pressure from the court. He did, however, have a great love for children, and while attending a benefit for a local orphanage, happened across Ienzo. It had been a massive controversy at the time, apparently; never had an heir been  _ adopted. _ The laws had to be rewritten just for him to be considered royalty. But Ansem had never been one to do things traditionally, because traditions didn’t always make  _ sense _ . “Yes… you have a point, Even. I’m sorry I ran in here in a huff.”

“Don’t you always,” he said dryly. “I’m positive things will work themselves out, Ienzo.”

So Ienzo went to his father.

Ansem was not quite so busy as he once had been--he was handing off responsibilities piece by piece to Ienzo--but that did not mean his schedule was  _ free. _ Time he did not have to abide by silly bureaucracy was time spent researching matters of the heart, the mind, the soul. He’d always been a humanist. Ienzo knocked at the door of his study.

“Enter.” Ienzo did so and found his desk in a familiar sea of papers. Ansem’s expression immediately brightened. “Hello, Ienzo.”

“...Father. Are you very busy?”

“I can make time for you, dear boy. Er.” He got up and cleared a stack of journals from a chair. “Tea? I can have some sent for.”

“...Quite alright.” He could already feel his face flushing with embarrassment.

“What ails you?”

He took a breath. “I’m having… a great deal more trouble conceiving than I thought,” he said. “It is something of a purgatory.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. Demyx had expressed some… frustrations.”

“...He spoke to you about it?”

“He’s actually been spending a few afternoons with me now and again. It helps that I can speak a little of his language. He must find that comforting.” A sigh. “From what I gather… he’s quite lonely.”

Ienzo felt a flush of guilt. “...Is he?”

“He has quite a large family at home, and it takes a long time for letters to be sent and received. He’s rather close with his siblings. He is also finding it… difficult to adjust to court life, to make friends here. There are some cultural differences. But you knew all this, didn’t you?”

The guilt worsened. 

Ansem just sighed. “Oh, Ienzo. Is the  _ only _ time you spend together when you try to conceive?”

“That’s not true--we also have breakfast and dinner together.”

“Then what is it you talk about?”

Ienzo wracked his brains. “Not… much of anything, honestly. I…”

“Perhaps… perhaps that is part of the issue, Ienzo. Romantic love is not necessary for your type of marriage, but some love, however small… can make all the difference.”

“Love will make me pregnant?” he asked dryly.

“No. But love will make your partnership stronger. You’re young. You’ve no  _ need _ to rush into parenthood.”

“I need an heir.”

“...who is, or will be, a person, and not just a thing you  _ need _ . If you work on your relationship now, you can be better parents to that child… whether you have them naturally, or choose to adopt.”

“...But you’re getting older.”

He puffed his chest a little. “I’m getting  _ older _ , but I’m hardly an infirm and senile man.”

Ienzo nodded once. “Alright. I’ll try.”

* * *

He found Demyx in their rooms, so softly playing his sitar. Ienzo’s meetings had, for once, ended early rather than run late. He took a breath. He opened the door as quietly as he could. Demyx’s expression was somewhat blank, even  _ morose _ ; Ienzo realized that the man was likely acting around him all the time, and this time the swell of guilt was physically painful. For a moment Ienzo stood there listening to his song, which was lulling and soft and yet full of a sort of longing. “...You’re quite talented,” he said to him during a pause in this composition.

He jumped. “Ienzo! I did not knowing--er--was not--” He seemed frustrated with his grasp of language. 

“...I do not usually run early.” He offered a smile. He crossed over to sit next to him on the chaise.

He frowned. “Everything is okay?”

“Yes. Er.” He bit his lip. “I figured it might be good for us to… spend some time together.”

“I thought you were bleeding?”

The guilt worsened. “Not in that way.”

Demyx looked confused.

“I realize… we’re married six months, and I barely know you. I didn’t even  _ know _ you had siblings.”

He dropped his eyes and shrugged. “You are busy.”

“That does not excuse my ill treatment of you. I fear I’ve been… using you as a means to an end. An object.”

“A baby,” he said helpfully.

“Well--sort of. Do you even  _ want _ children? What do you  _ want _ from this marriage, Demyx?”

He shrugged.

“You can tell me honestly. I won’t crucify you if the answer is less than flattering.”

He bit his lip and set the sitar aside. “Yes, I would like babies,” he said. “I always have. I am nine of fifteen kids. They’re fun to have around. Play with. See grow.”

Ienzo’s eyebrows shot up. “You have  _ fourteen _ siblings?”

He laughed a little. “My father has two wives, and they are also married to each other. I’m used to a large family. You always have a friend.” This last bit, he said wistfully. 

“You must miss them very much,” Ienzo said. 

Another shrug. 

“It’s alright if you do. You can tell me that much.”

A pause. “The people here are… odd,” he said. “So… uh… What’s the word?” He mumbled something in his language, and brought a hand to his face. 

“Shy?”

“Private. Everyone is saying what they think you want to hear, not what is true, what they really feel or think. I asked the maid which she liked better, pancakes or French toast, and she couldn’t even answer  _ that _ question flat out. “Whatever you prefer, Lord Demyx.”” In a convincing imitation of Ienzo’s accent. “You do it too. I ask you how your day is and you always hide how you feel with big words.”

“I suppose I should--watch my vocabulary around you. I forget there are probably a lot of words you can’t understand yet.”

“Good example there. Very proper all the time. Even when we… try for a baby. Shirt on always. Don’t move, don’t make noise. Like someone is watching.”

Ienzo felt himself flush. “I know I’ve been too… formulaic, about the whole thing. It’s not fair to you.”

He shrugged. “I was kind of knowing what might happen. I thought if I had the inspiration of this new place, the music, I would be happy.”

“But you’re not.”

He considered. “Neither are you.”

Ienzo wasn’t sure why, but he could feel his eyes prickling.

“This place. Have you ever been happy here?”

“Yes, of course,” Ienzo said. “My childhood was quite good.”

“Recently? Since you are… uh… all mister important?”

Ienzo thought about it. The hours and hours and weeks of boring meetings with prudish and annoying ministers whose heads were so far up their asses he could barely believe they were responsible for themselves, much less other  _ people _ , people who were different than them. Diplomatic trips which  _ might _ be nice, to travel and experience other cultures and the best bits he might take back with him, to be bogged down with yet more state visits and more boring people and the silent, but very potent, judgement from courts about all manner of things--that he was  _ adopted _ , that he was gay, that he hadn’t been  _ born _ a man. Ienzo’s existence was a scandal, and seeing that other places weren’t so accepting was exhausting. “Come to think of it, no,” he said softly. “I feel so much  _ pressure _ all the time, to be a good ruler, to be what my people  _ want _ me to be because of where I came from. And now there’s a pressure to… pop out a baby, or likely several, and honestly if I were not heir apparent I wouldn’t even  _ want _ to bring kids into this court. But I have to. There are so many things I  _ have _ to do, Demyx, and so little time left for… for me.” He felt his eyes threatening to run over. “I didn’t even  _ know _ you were suffering until I was  _ told _ . How blind am I?”

“Is okay.”

“It’s  _ not _ okay. There has to be  _ something _ I can do to make your life better here, more pleasant.”

Demyx reached over and drew him loosely into an embrace. How many time had they had sex, and yet Ienzo could not recall them ever  _ hugging _ ? He sagged against him. “It already is,” Demyx said. “All I wanted… was  _ talking. _ ”

Ienzo dabbed at his eyes. “Teach me your language,” he said. “All I know are silly travel book phrases--”

“You want to do that?”

“I want to know you.” He felt, almost for the first time, a real prickle of desire. “I want to know everything.”

* * *

Falling in love took time. They stopped sleeping together, silently but implicitly. Of course that caused rumors to be bounced around court-- _ did you hear, not even the prince’s  _ husband _ wants him now-- _ but Ienzo ignored them. More important to build their friendship up from the ground.

It helped that he was quite literally learning Demyx’s language. Ienzo had a good memory, but his accent was somewhat hopeless. Demyx laughed at him. “You just said “your shoe is green” instead of “how are you.””

“...So much for a quick tongue,” Ienzo said. 

He deliberately set aside time in his schedule each week for them to  _ date _ . He tried to figure out what Demyx might like from this city to  _ do _ . They went to museums, concerts, restaurants, parks. Sneaking past the guards was part of the fun. They spent an exhausting afternoon at an amusement park and fell asleep together at the foot of his bed.

But Ienzo’s favorite moments were in the quiet before and after sleep, when conversation was franker, more open. Once he  _ did _ have a better grasp of Demyx’s language, he found he was actually quite eloquent. “What, is it surprising I’m actually smart?” he teased.

“Not… surprising,” Ienzo said, too slowly. Demyx gently corrected his pronunciation. 

“I admit it’s kind of funny, seeing you go from mister “quite” “indeed” to barely being able to string a sentence together.”

“Hey. I’m learning.” He swallowed, then repeated the word properly. 

Demyx reached out to chuck him under the chin. For a moment, it seemed like he might actually kiss Ienzo--they were close enough that Ienzo could smell him--and he felt his lips part slightly. In all this time, despite all their contact… it still had not happened. “It’s cute,” Demyx reasserted, using what Ienzo knew now was a slightly condescending grammar. “Well. Sleep tight.”

He found himself thinking of that kiss with increasing frequency, watching the curve of his jaw when they had moments alone, and even when they were at public functions together. The rumors Ienzo heard changed-- _ maybe he does like him after all _ \--and Ienzo  _ wanted-- _

He wanted.

“Could I go home?” Demyx asked him one night. “Not--not forever, just… for a visit?”

“I don’t see why not. You have a right to see your family. You don’t need special dispensation from  _ me. _ ”

Ienzo saw a smile spread across his face. “Maybe… maybe you could go with me? You could use a break.”

“I shall… sincerely try to get away.”

A few weeks later, Ienzo found himself in Destiny Islands, which was hot, humid, and utterly full of life. There was such an  _ openness _ to the people there, a friendliness; all of the staff in Demyx’s palace referred to them by their first names and wore casual clothing. When Ienzo was  _ not _ dealing with Demyx’s younger siblings tumbling all around them, asking him thousands of questions about where he was from, he was being shown the sights, the seaside. It seemed as though a light had been turned back on inside of his husband.

They walked along the private stretch of beach behind the palace. The sun was low in the sky, the light rosy. “This has been wonderful,” Ienzo said. “I almost wish I didn’t have to go back.”

“Isn’t it nice to… just sort of take things bit by bit?” Demyx asked. “Take your time?”

He just nodded. He felt Demyx rest a hand on his waist. 

“Thank you for this,” Demyx said. “It’s been so nice catching up with everyone.”

“...I’m still just trying to keep up with all the talking.”

“Oh, hey. You’re not doing so bad.”

“...I accidentally called your mother a beetle.”

“And she found it cute you’re trying. We’ve had diplomats come through and  _ insist _ we all speak their language. Ugh. What a fucking power move.”

He chuckled a little. 

“It’s been… nice, lately,” he said. 

“What do you mean?”

“You. In general. I can actually  _ see _ you beneath the bullshit.”

“And you didn’t go running for the hills?”

“Har har.” He wrinkled his nose. “Really. You’re more… open to things.”

Demyx was closer to him now; Ienzo felt his heart skip a little. “I am sincerely trying.”

He reached up and brushed his finger across Demyx’s cheek, feeling him lean into the touch, shutting his eyes. “Do you know--?”

“What?”

“We’ve never… actually kissed.”

He squinted. “Huh,” he said.

“Quite.” He had no idea how to be sly about this. Bringing it up automatically meant fewer points. “I was wondering--”

But Ienzo never finished the sentence. Demyx leaned forward and kissed him first, his lips so  _ soft _ , and Ienzo grappled awkwardly for a moment until he got the hang of it. And then it seemed like there had never been a time  _ without _ this. Demyx’s hands tangled in his hair and Ienzo pulled him closer. He felt a sliver of something against his lips and let it in, and good god it was probably indecent to be doing this for so long in public, but he didn’t want to stop, couldn’t  _ bring _ himself to, until finally Demyx eased away. “Do you want to go back?” he asked Ienzo.

He nodded, his heart racing. “Yes.”

Together they hurried back to Demyx’s old rooms, and the door was barely shut behind them before they were kissing  _ again _ almost with a ferocity. Demyx kissed at his throat, working down towards his collarbone, and when he reached to unbutton Ienzo’s shirt, he didn’t say no, and instead just reached up to pull off Demyx’s own shirt. He eased Demyx down onto the bed and kissed at him, eager to taste him, only to find that strangely he tasted like he smelled. Ienzo could feel the reaction, his hard dick pressed between them, and ground his hips against it, garnering a small moan. 

Demyx worked at his pants, and awkwardly Ienzo eased them off, until they were both naked. For a moment they just held eye contact. Demyx ran a finger down along his side, making him shudder, and leaned up to kiss his chest, his nipple. Ienzo gasped and took his dick into his hand, considering the times he’d done it just to get him hard, not to cause him real  _ pleasure _ . “Not so…” Demyx swallowed. “I want to… um…”

“Me too.” It didn’t feel odd, or unnatural, to lean over him. Demyx’s hand slid up against his thigh, his touch light, making him feel weak. Demyx began to stroke his clit, working him slowly, gently, a tingling starting inside of him. This was so much different than their first time. There was a presence to it. Ienzo leaned down to kiss him. He tried to let himself just roll with it, to  _ emote _ , to let Demyx know that yes, he was actually enjoying it. He shifted his weight forward. “Look, let’s not… worry about anything right now.”

“Yes.” Demyx teased his opening with the tip of his dick. Ienzo couldn’t help but squirm a little. 

“Could you just…”

Demyx pressed into him a little more, another soft sound leaving him, making the fine hairs on Ienzo’s arms raise. He grasped at Ienzo’s hips and began to move against him. It was all so familiar and yet at the same time it was new. Ienzo felt lips against his collarbone, his nipple, a shudder passing through him. He thought he might faint, and actively tried to suppress the embarrassment when he moaned. “You’re beautiful.”

It was getting difficult to hold himself up, the pleasure threatening to overwhelm him. He moved against Demyx harder. A quiver passed through Demyx’s dick, something he was almost positive he hadn’t felt before, so Ienzo tried to do the same thing again. Was it the angle? The way his muscles were tightening? Ienzo grasped at Demyx’s shoulders and kept riding him.

Even more strange about all this was simply letting himself feel, not worrying about getting pregnant, or the distance between them. Because there  _ was _ no more distance. Demyx reached to rub at his clit, blurring his thoughts more, and finally it was just  _ them _ , the way they were moving against each other, and Ienzo was able to kiss him once more before it became too much.

It felt like getting dragged under a tide, but instead of drowning, he was enjoying the feeling of getting carried away, the lack of control surprisingly exhilarating. He felt Demyx still moving inside of him, only intensifying the sensation, until he felt a rush of heat, and he very nearly fell on top of him. “Yes,” Demyx said softly, brushing the hair out of Ienzo’s face. “Like this.” He eased out of him and wrapped his arms around his waist.

They’d never held one another, either, he realized. The soft thump of Demyx’s heart soothed him, a strange comfort Ienzo had never felt. 

“Tired now?”

“Yes.”

“Sleep, okay?”

* * *

The weeks passed, and their marriage changed from something ersatz to something  _ real _ . Ienzo found himself longing for those small moments of intimacy; chatter shared over breakfast, discussions of their days, scattered jokes. Moments alone. They did not try to have a baby anymore, not actively, but rather they made love when they wanted to; not just at night, but in quiet breaths of peace, or more strangely enough, if their emotions ran too high in hidden places in the palace. Ienzo learned things about himself, his husband. It was no longer such an arduous thing, to be embodied.

Perhaps for this reason, when he started feeling fatigued, and nauseous, and when his period failed to show, Ienzo did not feel dread, or even a grim sense of accomplishment. He felt… happy.

The castle physician confirmed his suspicions. Ienzo returned to his rooms, begging off afternoon meetings saying he was ill--not entirely wrong, and it was so unlike him to call off work nobody questioned a thing. He found Demyx calmly composing in their drawing room. "What is it?" He asked. "You okay?"

Ienzo swallowed, a sudden wave of emotion crushing him. 

Demyx crossed over to him and took his hands. "Sit. Are you sick?"

He blinked hard. "Not quite. I…" He drew a deep breath. "I'm pregnant."

His eyebrows shot up. "Really?"

"Yes… I just came from the infirmary."

Demyx also seemed to become teary. "Oh," he said. "Oh. A baby." He reached towards Ienzo. "Could I--" He rested a hand on his stomach. "A  _ baby _ ."

"Finally, right?"

Demyx pressed his forehead against Ienzo's. "Are you happy?"

"Yes. I am."

He kissed him once. "I love you," he whispered, in his native language.

"I love  _ you. _ " It felt too good to say. 

* * *

He found himself looking forward to this child, and what he could give to them. Ansem was right; they would be a  _ person _ first, not an heir, not royalty. But could he be a good enough parent? And where had this about-face come from? Was it really because he now loved his husband, and had confidence in that relationship?

There were periods where Ienzo was terrified, especially once he began to feel the baby move. How could he possibly go through with this? He’d so easily overlooked Demyx’s suffering in the beginning; wouldn’t it be easier to do that to a child? More than once he could not resist the hormone-driven breakdown, and Demyx had to comfort him. This, along with the immense pressure that came with being pregnant with the heir--expected functions, a very public baby shower (though, he insisted, rather than give him things he did not need, his guests should instead donate to various institutions that helped babies and children), the judgement of every single little decision he made ( _ I saw him eating fish the other day, doesn’t he know he’s not supposed to?) _ left him so fraught and anxious that both Even and the castle doctor enforced bedrest the last month. 

“At least I can pamper you,” Demyx told him. Their grasps of one another’s languages were more or less fluent at this point, and while Ienzo’s accent was not  _ good _ , at least it was now  _ coherent. _

“I wasn’t always this anxious,” he muttered. It felt odd,  _ wrong _ , to be laid up so. 

“You’ve got a lot on your plate.” He began rubbing at Ienzo’s feet; considering how swollen they were, it was like a godsend. “Now all you have to do is finish making the baby and watch me be pretty.” Ansem refused to let Ienzo do anything, no matter how hard he tried. 

“Well when you put it like  _ that _ . You  _ are _ rather easy on the eyes.”

“You’re not so bad yourself.” He leaned forward to kiss him once. 

* * *

After a twelve hour labor (which he was told was comparatively short, though it seemed like an eternity) in which anesthetics only helped  _ marginally _ … their child was born, in the middle of the night, during a full moon.

“A good omen,” Demyx said.

“Tell me you don’t believe in those things.” Ienzo did not think he had ever been this exhausted, but the only perk of no longer being pregnant was that he had access to better painkillers. 

“And you don’t? Come on, Ienzo.” 

Ienzo looked down at their daughter, asleep in his arms. “I feel on one hand… I am dooming her,” he murmured. She’d been born with a whole head of hair--Demyx’s brown, to his immense relief--and he gently brushed it off her forehead. “To a boring life of insufferable morons, with no freedom, no privacy… no choice.”

“I know what you mean,” Demyx said, taking her tiny fist. “But we have to make this place better for her.”

“I suppose we do.” He kissed her forehead. “Giving me more work already, aren’t you?”

* * *

And truthfully, it wasn’t easy. Ienzo didn’t want to stick the child with a nanny more than necessary, but once he was recovered, he had to return back to his duties. But to ask Demyx to watch her all the time was also unfair, though he claimed he didn’t mind. He was an attentive father, so patient, always singing to her or trying to show her the world. They named her Aiko, a word which in Demyx’s language meant something long sought. Introducing her to the public just added more stress. Ienzo tried to find pleasure in the small moments they could have as a family. To be happy with what he had. Most of the time, he was able to manage it, though every now and again he felt intense longing to just run away and be a family. 

But he owed it to her--and to Demyx--to make this place better. So as much as he could, he did. He continued to support Ansem’s initiatives for the sciences, but also started new ones for the arts. He strengthened relationships with allies and tried to salvage rockier ones. He tried to understand class struggles and how he was complicit in the oppression of those long forgotten. All he could do was  _ try. _ And while he made certain ministers or nobles angry (an anger which felt good to Ienzo), it truly was in order to help  _ everyone _ .

So at the end of the day… reading stories to his daughter, listening to the songs Demyx had made for her… he figured he could’ve done a lot worse for himself. 

“What did you think when you first saw me?” Demyx asked him one night when they finally got Aiko to sleep. They were curled together in bed, Ienzo lying on top of him. He had never slept so well alone. 

“What did I think?”

“ _ Did _ you think?” He stroked Ienzo’s hair. 

“I did.” He chuckled a little. “I could not believe they let you get married with that hair.”

“Hey! For the record  _ individuality _ is incredibly important to us!”

“What did you think?”

“I thought you looked tired.”

He propped himself up a little. “Tired?”

“Tired. Closed off.” He kissed his forehead. “I wanted to see what was underneath.”

He scoffed. “Are you happy with what you saw?”

“I really am.”


End file.
